Plateau Top (and bottom) Experience (WR)

Ever been to the top of a mountain?

It's a pretty sweet experience.

In China, I plateau-ed.  My 3rd week found me and my "mini-team" (half of "mega-team") in a tiny town along the yellow river.  The valley that holds this town is home to about 7 people groups of which were unreached.  Now there's not much language cross over as I alluded to in a previous blog, so that left us doing a lot of prayer walking.

I'll keep this one short...

On the first day of our prayer walks, I found myself walking off alone and toward mountains in the distance.  I was already on top of a plateau, pretty significantly elevated above most of the areas below.  I had a great view all around me.  But I wasn't completely satisfied with that.  I wanted to move on to the top of the highest mountain I could get to, but I just felt like I should stop.

So I did, and I had a little time with God, then I turned around to come back, but I was led a different way back.  I felt this strange feeling to go down, off the beaten path into a ravine between to plateaus and on out that way.  It didn't make sense, but some things came to me in those moments.

1.  There was more to be done.  There were higher points to reach. There was more "work" to be done, but sometimes God calls us to be satisfied where we are, not because there's not more, but because He is the one who brought us where we are.  Being brought to Him is more important than any mountain top.

2.  Though I didn't feel led to go on higher up that day.  There is no pride to be found atop the plateaus of life, yes we may have come a long way, either physically, emotionally, spiritually, or some combination of all three, but there is still more that can be accomplished.  Don't rest on what has been done, there is more out there to be sought, and if God calls you higher, don't rest in where you've been.

3.  Even in getting to the plateaus of life, there is no room for pride.   For example, I never would have reached that plateau without a number of factors including, but not limited to, the health God gave me, the financial support of people to bring me to China, the spiritual support to bring me to a place where I would go on this crazy journey, the placement in this specific location, and, let's not forget, the fact that there was a place created to climb.  All of our accomplishments and heights that we tend to find much pride in are so dependent on many things beyond our "will power" and "ability."

4.  I needed no convincing to want to go higher, to want to achieve more.  I was all for seeking the high place, and needed some convincing to not go on, but when I started feeling an itch to go down deep into the ravine I wasn't so eager.  Sometimes God plans to take us high, and sometimes we are to be brought low.  We need to learn to do as it says in Philippians 4:11-13.  (look it up).  Sometimes God doesn't wanna take us to the peak, because it might be in the valley or ravine that we are brought closest to Him, which is our ultimate good.

5.  What God leads in life won't always make sense.  Suck it up.  We shouldn't have have a pride so powerful that everything you do has to make sense.  We should have more of a keen interest in trusting Him than ourselves and guarding our pride.

So what?

Well, I'm sure there's more, but here's a start...

Don't always seek the mountain top experiences as a sign of holiness, sometimes the holy ground is on the plateau top... or bottom….

The Chinese Surrender (WR)

My month in China won’t quite ring in your ears (or eyes) the way it possibly could have, would I have written it while I was there or in the immediate aftermath. Orrrrr maybe you’ve just been spared a slew of metaphors about crowded streets, honking horns, and smog that would do nothing to move the story along…

Take it how you will, what’s done is done.

My team underwent a new dynamic shift.  We had a member added, bringing the total to 8, then we were chopped in half and sent into separate ministries for the whole month.  My half team was told to walk around, prayer walk, meet people, make friends, do what we can to build relationships and share Christ.

Well doing that is so vague at times that you easily lose vision and drive, and that’s if you’re doing it in a place where people understand your language, or vice versa.  Now take that task and put it in a place where there are hundreds of thousands of people around you, of which maybe 1% would understand a full conversation, and couple of things can happen.

You’re language gets reduced to a “hello” in their language, a smile, and the occasional miming.
Many of us find it difficult enough to have the drive to build relationships and evangelize in our own language, but “Lord, how on Earth am I supposed to share your love in a place where I can’t communicate much, and even if I could I have to be careful about what I say about you if I don’t wanna get kicked out of the country?”

We are all given the task of making disciples.  Some of us don’t take that call, and some of us do.  So the ones that do have it together… right?

Well, not necessarily.  Because what can happen sometimes is we can try to do a Godly call with our manly (or womanly) power and resources.  We can sometimes have some “success” in this.  We may be people that God has blessed with talents and abilities that can carry our outreach to a point that to many seems successful.

But what happens when those abilities are stripped?

For example, I love meeting people.  I have some extroverted “tendencies.”  God has blessed me with a heart for people that has a somewhat easy time making friends and investing in lives.  Now don’t get me mistaken, not everyone likes that sort of thing, but I can’t argue the fact that He has given me that blessing.

We have a tendency to lean on our own strengths, even when we are part of a “God-sized” job, and I’m no different.  God took nearly everything away from me that I (with emphasis) could do in my own strength.

China is the only country that I traveled to that I had no conversations with a native believer.  So, if God’s love was going to be shown, it was going to have to be Him.  I would have to blindly obey, keep a good spirit, and have faith that He would accomplish what He wanted thru what little I could do.  Yeah… uh trust and faith…the same things I say that I have toward His work in my life, well wouldn’t it make sense that I would share that faith for His work in the lives of others?

Well God might as well have shouted that out to me last month.  “Look Matt, you’ve got talents, I want you to use them so much as they don’t get in my way to do what I’m doing.  Use them as I guide you, and that means don’t use them when not instructed to.”

Well last month that was easy, because I didn’t really have much that I could do, but what about whenever I can do more?  What about whenever I get home and beyond?

The same thing applies, and I pray that I take the same dependence that he broke me down to last month into the rest of my days, when I will undoubtedly have more “power” or ability to influence a situation, and on occasion this will mean that I have more of a chance to get in God’s way.

Many of us want to do great things.  As believers, we all want (or perhaps we should want) to use our talents to help further the Kingdom and the cause of our Savior in our lives and in the lives of others.  And that may mean doing a small thing that no one notices or being a part of something that touches and directly effects millions, but of all that perhaps the greatest thing any of us will ever do is to stay out of His way in our lives and the lives of others.

Much of our inaction in life is because we don’t trust that God will provide for the aftermath of what that action or risk could mean.  But sometimes it takes more faith to do nothing than it does to do something.

Do not get me wrong… We aren’t designed to sit on our talents and blessings and never use them, but…

When we learn to be broken down, even to the point of submitting our talents to idleness for whatever time He calls us to in favor of letting Him work, we learn something…

We learn faith.  We exercise the “muscle of faith.” And our faith gets stronger.

We learn that He is worthy to trust.  We learn that it is Him that provides.  We learn that He doesn’t need us, and that can either restore us to, or keep us in a proper perspective of humility.  Which will then lead to subsequent thankfulness and joy that we serve such a great God, and that we “get to” be a part of His plan.  This can then revitalize us to be more joyfully zealous, and ironically enough, better servants when He calls us back into action.

So don’t be afraid to have the faith to do nothing for God, because in that He could teach you that He’s been doing everything all along anyway.

If I Die "Too Soon"

Recently a great man in my life passed on.

Dr. Donald Wagner served so many over the years, and my family was very much included in those masses.  He consistently carried our banner in scholarship committee meetings, which allowed our family the opportunity to not be burdened by the finances of school.  You see… I say “family,” because I mean it.  My dad, mom, and myself were all at UWG at the same time, graduating with undergraduate degrees in 2006, 2007, and 2008 respectively.  Paying tuition for 3 and the other financial demands of life would have been pretty difficult to say the least, especially with the main “bread winners” having to spend time in class and studying.


                                                  
“D-Wags” didn’t stop there.  He was influential in giving my mother the honor of speaking at her graduation in front of thousands.  He was influential in fighting for my father to receive his nursing certification, a fight made necessary because of past that had long since left my dad, but not on paper.

But it went beyond that.  He was powerful, but he was personable.  He was influential, yet intentional.  He was accomplished, yet approachable.  He was a good man, well about as good as any of us flawed folks can be in this life.  He saw past the flaws of people’s pasts and present situations, into their potential.  In the end he lost to cancer, but he won at something much bigger, life.

He had a long fight, but he was able to say goodbyes, and people were able to say goodbyes to him.  His daughters Jenny and Chelsea thanked me for caring so much, but the fact that I cared enough to call in and write in from across the world doesn’t say as much about the kind of person I am, but rather I think it speaks far more to the kind of man he was.  What kind of man would I be if I didn’t care about a guy like that?

He lived a life that had people from all backgrounds and from all over the world writing, calling, and visiting in his last days, just trying to offer up some words of thankfulness and encouragement to the man we all adored.  In the end, I think it was as helpful, or more helpful, to us to say those things than it was for him to hear it, even though, he no doubt loved it.
               

In some small way, I think we felt like we got the opportunity to say something encouraging to a man that we all felt in some way indebted to.  Some people have that effect on us.  Just knowing them is blessing enough that even IF they didn’t go out of their way to serve us specifically we feel indebted, but normally those ARE the types of people that do go out of their way.  Dr. Wagner was one of those people.

Seemingly, whenever someone passes on, under the age of 80, it’s as if you are pretty much guaranteed to hear someone utter the phrase, “He(or she) is ‘gone too soon.’”  The frequency that you’ll hear it tends to increase the younger a person is, or the more people they impacted or talent they had.  This often comes from the feeling that this person whether young, or great, or both had so much more to experience and/or so much more to give the world.

I realize that if I died now, at “only” 26 years old, this saying would certainly leave the lips of several in attendance at my funeral or visitation service.  Some would mean it, some would say it… well, just because it’s what you say.

But if I die “too soon,” be assured that it is a lie.  I’m ready to go.  I’m in no hurry, but I’m not afraid.

The greatest miracle in life isn’t the blind seeing, the deaf hearing, or the dead being raised.  It’s a heart prone to sin and selfish pride being transformed to want something more, to want to love and serve the God who made it by loving and serving others in His creation above its own interests.

Now I’ve not gotten it perfect along this path, and until it ends I’ve still got a journey to make, but for every day as long as I remember in my life I’ve been able to be a part of that “greatest miracle,” and for much of that journey I’ve been blessed enough to try to help other people experience that miracle as well.

In addition to those miracles, I’ve been blessed to see so many wonderful places and know so many wonderful people (like Dr. Wagner) before either their time or my time was up.

If it all ended today, I’ve had well over 100 years worth of blessings squeezed into under 27, and they’re still coming each day. I'm just writing this to let you know that I have LIVED.  I may not have live as many years compared to what the expectation might be, but I have LIVED each of those years.

What greater life could I live with an extra 50 years after the final bell for me?  What greater miracle could I experience when the greatest is already in my back pocket.  That’s not one of those statements that mean I can just prop my feet up and chill in an entitled mindset, but it’s more of a “I’m playing with house money here.”  Everything else is ice cream on the cake (yeah I know you think the saying is icing on the cake and it is, but let’s be honest… ice cream is better… unless it’s mint chocolate chip).

So if I should go before you think I’ve had my fill, just know that I’ve had my cake… (and the whole food pyramid).  Even if I should never take another bite of the deliciousness of life, I have indeed had my fill, and much more.  If you miss me when that time comes, cry if you must, but don’t cry FOR me.  Don’t cry because of what you think I missed out on, because they will be wasted tears.  Don’t even cry because of what you think I had to give the world, because no part of the world needs me, because it will still have the One, Jesus, who gave me any and all good things I ever had to give anyway.

When I’m done here, don’t be angry.  Don’t ask why.  Don’t think you could have chosen better by keeping me here, because you’d be wrong.

Until that time comes… I’ll keep going freely after Him in this race called life, knowing that tomorrow doesn’t need me, and that I’ve already been given more than I deserved. And because of that I wanted you all to know that when there’s no more cake here for me, whether today, or in 70 years, that I will not have died “too soon.”

Addicted to Rehab (WR)

There are times to blog on the race, occasions, events, harrowing tales that just must be told.  Then there are those times when it feels obligatory.  For example, to wrap up a month, or to move into a new one, like right now.

It wasn’t like Nepal wasn’t wonderful.  To say anything negative about my experience with the Nepalee people would take some deliberation and ignoring all the abundance of good we were showered with.  It’s just that day after day we lived our life.  I can’t put my finger on one particular big thing to write about… it was just… good…every day.

When that grows to be the standard, you know you can’t ignore and not write about it, but things that might have seemed great other places and in other situations begin to be what you are accustomed too.  I think that happens in the States a lot.  We have so much.  We are blessed with so much, that to complain would be shortsighted and kinda silly to say the least.  But we go thru time periods when nothing is bad, but nothing stands so far beyond everything else.  It’s just day to day life, and it’s good.


Our month spent nestled on the outskirts of Kathmandu with the Gurung family was like that.  We got to walk a lot.  We got to pray a lot. We got to speak a lot.  From prayer/cottage meetings, to church service, to youth group, to women’s meeting(not me), to rehab center meetings(and now I’m addicted to rehab), we got to stop in the street for random dance parties, we were repeatedly asked and blessed to be able to “share a word from the Lord.”  We held our hands in front of our chest, slightly bowed, and said “Namaste” a LOT.  We got to pick up trash at a school with the help of the unexpected help of the children.  We got to visit mountain top Tibetan Buddhist monasteries.  We got to play with children and laugh along our way.  We got to visit a meditation center and speak with a “seeker.”  

 

And at the end of the month we got to stay at a flippin sweet hostel, “The Sparkling Turtle.”  If you’re ever in Kathmandu… check it out. (And if you do… Order the “Matt Burger,” but only if you like chicken, buffalo, bacon and cheese).

                              
It was, for all intensive purposes a pretty chill month in terms of our definable ministry.  We had time to think, to reflect, to read, and pray on God’s word and His will as we move forward in this journey.  We had time to grow more together as a team and get adjusted to the change without a ton of extra “ministry” stress. 

We were so incredibly blessed to live with Megh, Bem, and their son Subash(really the spellings of these names might not be right).  They showed us so much love and care.  “Poppa Chicken” or “Kukhura Pa” as I call him is a great father and husband and a great host.  He cares so much for people and does it in a great way.  He’s done a great job raising a tremendous son, who we hope to see in Atlanta real soon.
       

Ok… so I kinda lied a little.  I’ll pick out something that stood out and share a little story.  (Yeah I could delete that part in the blog, but I'll just keep it...)

The last two Tuesdays we were able to visit a rehabilitation center for people who’d been struggling with drug addictions.  In the first of those visits I was able to share the love of God and how these men could be who God said they were, not the lies that the world, the enemy, their family, friends, or even themselves had been feeding them for so many years.  I was able to share with them truth that their past, much like the past of some of the Bible’s great people isn’t perfect.  For example, David murdered and committed adultery, Moses murdered and was afraid to speak, Abraham was fearful and lied, the twelve disciples screwed up time and time again, Paul murdered Christians for fun and money.

(Picture to come in the future... Lord Willin' )

What made all these men great wasn’t their doing, obviously, but the work of the Lord to use any and everyone is what comes to light here.

The same is true in all of our lives.  Our pasts, even though they have brought us to our current spot, don’t define us.  Our current place in this vapor called “life,” the spot that our pasts have brought us to are very real, but nonetheless whatever consequences or rewards we have, are, or will experience don’t define us.

We are defined by who we are, not what we’ve done or what has happened to us, but too often we let what we’ve done and what’s happened to us determine who we THINK we are.  Then we live behind that lie, letting the wrong thing drive us, and that feeds into more of the same.  The best way to spend our lives spending out who God is, and what He says about us, and as we find that helping others do the same.

The same Spirit and God that freed those men from those pasts, frees and lives in us today, and empowers us to be able to live the same kinds of lives.

So let’s live em.


(Now this doesn't fit at all in what I said, but I thought I'd share a list of blog titles I passed up... you're welcome?)


 
"I Can't Believe it's Not Buddha"
"Hallelujah Man"
"Gigri Man"
"Nepal My Exes Live in Texas"
"Wanna go to Nepal? Sher-pa"
"Getting High in Nepal"
"KathmanDon't"

Fancylandless & The Team Formerly Known as Real (WR)

Month 8 debrief found us wrapping up India, a tough month, as I’ve previously alluded to in my last 2 blogs.  It also found us in a small town, without many luxuries, trapped, for the most part, by incessant rain.  But I think that’s what we needed.

Many of us had a tough month spiritually and/or  otherwise, the threat at a luxurious debrief would have been to, as my new squad leader Rebekah Clark aptly pointed out in her blog, run to worldly things for comfort and peace.

But those amenities weren’t available to us.  In fact, nowhere we looked to have debrief was going to be filled with convenience or lots of “pleasure” as we typically might seek it out after a tough time.  Instead, the only place of real comfort and solace we had to turn to was God and each other.  For the most part I think our squad took advantage of that.

It wasn’t the debrief many wanted or envisioned.  Even I, though I knew “Fancy Land” wasn’t the best for us, didn’t see the incessant rain as an issue to the extent that it was.  Sure it was monsoon season, but that had been dwindling down throughout our month of travels… not this week.

But as I alluded to in my last blog, the things that aren’t our “favorite,” can often be best for us.
In the times in our life when we feel the most beat down, when we have luxuries or easy things we can run to them and not to the God whom we need alone.

Thankfully, God protected me from that during this week.

As John Piper pointed out in “Don’t Waste Your Life,” God doesn’t often call us to an easier life.

Tough times will drive you further from God and closer to rock bottom, or they can push you the other way.  A lot of that depends on attitude and perspective, and what you chose to do with the cards your dealt, and of course the sway of His Spirit on our your heart.  Thankfully, He pulled me a good way.

Something else happened…

Team Changes…

4 of the previous 6 team leaders were given a reprieve from team leading.  Only one remained a team leader, my old leader, Becca Burger.  Rebekah Clark was raised up to a squad leader (totally made for it even if she doesn’t believe it yet) in place of my first team leader Rachel Williams, who was given a great blessing to be able to “just be.”

Sam, Austin, Molly, and Rach had all been in leadership since the beginning of the race, and Janelle had been in it for 4 months.  They all greatly deserved the break, and I’m very happy for all of them as I am thankful for their service and leadership.  I am hopeful in this season that they can enjoy the things and freedoms they couldn’t before, because they were so busy pouring themselves out for their fellow teammates and squad mates.

So what does all this “freeing” and change mean?

Well “Unveiled Pursuit” has gone the way of the great “Mosaic” and is no more.


*Cue “Taps” *

It’s still mostly intact, but I’ve been taken away, and in my stead Sam and Leah (two of my favorite people on this journey) have filled in what is now “Breathe.”  And I’m sure they will be a breath of life for my old teammates.  I’m happy for all of them to have each other, and know they will be a great team.

So what of me? What became of this gangly man?

I’ve been given the honor of being a team leader of what is now “The Team Formerly Known as REAL.”  And I know what you’re thinking… and the answer is Yes… We do have a symbol.



I am humbled that I not only allowed to serve and grow alongside, Austin, Ben, Jenna, Sarah, Meagan, and Kristin, but to be charged with leading them.  This would be such a heavy burden without their support, but I’ve been so moved by the welcome I’ve received.  These are some really great folks, and I’m excited for what God will show us, and show others thru us.

Please pray for me as I try to lead such strong and wonderful children of God.  Pray for wisdom, discernment, conviction, and strength.  Pray that I would reject passivity, but be filled with humility, peace, patience, gentleness, kindness and mercy.  Pray that my pride dies its last death, and that I lead with vulnerability and a servant heart.

And perhaps even more… pray for them.  Pray that He would give them gracious hearts to understand and be forgiving in the times I fall short.  Pray for open hearts, and for all the things I asked to be prayed for myself.

Pray that we can learn from each other, but above all… Pray that God be glorified in us as individuals and as a team, and that we leave each person we meet along the last 3 months and as we go home, wanting, knowing, and having more of the God we have grown in.

“GAME… BLOUSES!” (If you don’t get it, it’s okay).

It'sss Beginning to Look a Lot Like Krish-na (WR)

So whenever I get home from this whole World Race thing people will undoubtedly ask, “How was your trip?” or ”How was your year?”  For the most part, those people probably won’t want more, or get more than “good.”  Some will go a little deeper and ask something like “What was your favorite country?”  That, too has a lot of possible answers, depending on if you are speaking of contacts, ministry, the beauty of the country, etc.  Even within those breakdowns it will still be somewhat difficult to say, and that’s with about 3 full months left.

What I can say, however, is that I will likely not be answering “India” to the latter question.

It wasn’t that I hated India, I don’t.

It wasn’t that I’ll never go back.  In fact, India was home to some of the people that sought to honor me, my team, and squad the most.  I now have, what I feel can be, lifelong friends in India.

It wasn’t just because I struggled to find my place in the ministry we were assigned to.

It wasn’t just because I didn’t always agree with what I was faced with.

It wasn’t just because our team struggled with communication.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have any adventure in India.  We started in Mumbai for a few days, trekked 27 hours by train to Calcutta, another 4 or 5 hour travel day (including 2 hour flight) had us in Jaipur, and a few days later an overnight bus took us 7 hours to Udaipur.  3 days later we were shuttled 6 hours to Jhabua, and a couple days after that we found ourselves in Delhi (a missed train, 5 hour rocky-sea-like car ride, and plane trip later).  We were the only team that got to visit the Taj Mahal, via a round trip of over 10 hours one day from Delhi, before heading back on a flight to Mumbai.

Then there’s the whole travel to debrief a couple hours away, travel from debrief to an airport where our flight had been canceled without our knowledge, and search that finally had us in bed at 7am 2 hours from the airport.


This month didn’t lack stories so much.  It definitely didn’t lack cows in the street, palaces, and curry.
It didn’t lack a ministry.  We traveled around the country worshipping the Lord with Burn 24/7, but it was a struggle for me.  And I can’t say that a lot of it had anything to do with India itself.


Sure we had celebrity status in a worship setting, and while I’ve never feared celebrity status, in a worship setting it’s tough.

It’s the kind of thing that made me wonder if these people could be closer to worshipping the One True God if I hadn’t brought my white butt to their village or city.

But instead I stood there trying to be genuine and find a secret worshipful tone with the God I love and want others to as well, but they are more interested in snapping camera phone shots of me than what I, and they, supposedly came there for.



Even at the Taj Mahal, filled with thousands of people, most near our team seemed more interested in us than this wonder of the world.

It was humbling.  Because I know I didn’t deserve this sort of attention.  I didn’t come for it, but it was there.

The month had a lot…

From feeling miles from God while others worshipped joyfully below, to riding thru a red light district in Calcutta feeling discontent for not feeling the brokenness I knew in my heart that the situation called for, to feeling a bit of weight lifted, to seeking Him thru all the noise and acclaim for my team and me.

This month brought some of the moments where I’ve felt the most distant from God in my entire life, and, in the end, some of the moments where I‘ve felt the closest.

And, as I sit and type this, the thought occurs that maybe God was just preparing me to be able to seek find the secret place with Him, even when everything and everyone else looking in from the outside points at me or my group as something “special” or “exceptional,” when I knew better.

I’ve felt there’s a potential call on my life that might lead to a large platform, and who knows if that’s true, but I felt for great leaders of the church this month like Giglio, Chan, Piper, and so on…   Men who teach and proclaim and seek so much for people to treasure Christ and love others as a result, often times only to hear more about their name and how awesome they are for saying it a certain way, than the message they tried to convey.

I’m not saying I’ll ever reach that status, but God pushed me to a point of being desperate for Him this month, and Him alone, and that’s never a bad place to be.


India is just hard.  It’s spiritually dark and needs so much light.  It’s not that there aren’t lights here, seeing places like SEAL and meeting people like Prathap, the Ellis family, Steven, Praveen, Kevin, etc showed me that, but there’s so much darkness and so much need for more light.


I faced spiritual attacks in a way like I’ve not experience prior on this journey, but I also found a peace that I can’t quite compare either.  There’s a peace I’ve felt prior, but there’s nothing quite like peace after a battle and a storm.

So I must say India was not my favorite month, in fact it was probably my least favorite, but as with many things that aren’t our favorite in life, they have the potential to turn into the thing that was the best for us.

And it’s quite possible that August in India was the best month FOR me, even if it wasn’t the best month TO me.

Flood Proof (WR)

Sometimes in life… we lack what we feel we should have.  Sometimes what we feel we should have is feeling and that’s that loudest “feeling” we do have.

In a world that focuses so much on emotions, it’s certainly easy to become numb and desensitized because we over hype so many useless things.  So the feeling of “not feeling” isn’t a new one, but when it comes in the midst of things that “should” illicit some major response of the soul it has the potential to be discouraging, at the very least confusing.

It’s in these times we find our true motivation.

As you may or may not know, depending on the frequency with which you read my blog, Facebook status, or tweets, I’m in India.  My team and squad leader Ben are working with something called Burn 24/7.  We travel around the country and do worship and praise.  The thought being that where God’s name is lifted up and praised even in the darkest places there His spirit dwells.


Now obviously, I feel like God is everywhere, but there’s a difference between that and the “manifest” presence of His Spirit.  Week 1 in India we find ourselves in a church, some of our team leading worship at a seminar, a seminar that had people travel from as far as over 400 miles the night before to attend.  At night, our team was worshiping and instead of being in the joy fest that was taking place below me, I found myself laying alone upstairs on the balcony.  Feeling few things only… distant, attacked, far from the God which I claimed so much to believe in, all while my ears were being filled with the roaring sound of joyous praises just below me.

          
              The guys and gals leading worship at the first "Burn"

Ya see… oddly enough the two times in my life I most remember that I’ve questioned His existence and worthiness the most were in the midst of a worship setting.  I know, odds are that some people going crazy and raising their hands don’t mean it, which puts in me this question if I’ve ever been that person just going thru the motions and not really believing in what I’m saying.  Do I really believe the words they are singing.
I felt just a heavy weight.  All I could do was lay there and just talk to the God I thought was listening.  All I could muster was stuff like…

God please show yourself to me.  Make me feel you.

Help me want you.   

I don’t want some crazy, weird miracle.  I don’t necessarily want a sign or a wonder I just want to feel you.  (I honestly can’t say with any certainty that I’ve ever seen one, in terms as most of us would think).

I know in my mind, or at least I think I do, that You are real and all the things we sing that You are, but that’s being weighed down on right now.  I don’t want to just believe in You, because it seems unbelievable and illogical that You couldn’t be real, but in times like this it seems like “How could this be real?”

God forgive me for not praising You like I “know” I “should.”  Forgive me for questioning.  But honestly, given that you’re real, I know you’ll understand.  Pull me thru this.  Don’t let my disbelief hinder any work You want to do here tonight.

Don’t let my lack of “feeling” get in the way.

The next night I sat in a worship service with some kids and people rescued from the street.  They had all sorts of ailments.  Some couldn’t walk, but at most sliver along the ground or crawl.  Some of these same children that I held and laughed with and prayed over had life-threatening diseases.  Two of which were most closely stuck to me had HIV, one ask me to pray against the fear in him.

There are some moments that are humbling, like I spoke about some of my last blog.  Having a boy no older than 10, infected with HIV, standing in your arms asking you to pray that He wouldn’t fear… that’ll do it.  So here I knelt, a night removed from being in the midst of being maybe the most downtrodden I’ve ever felt, and given such a tremendous moment.  Tragic? Yes, but tremendous nonetheless.


                             Some of the boys from SEAL

I prayed for peace in a language this boy couldn’t understand, but I don’t know if planted itself firmly in this boy’s life, or was just something temporary.

I prayed for healing for these boys in a language neither could comprehend, but I don’t know if it worked.  (Had it not been for a 3^rd boy, no more than 10 years old translating their requests, I would have never even known what to pray for).

And I hugged them and played with them.

But that’s in the end all I could do.  I don’t know what will become of those boys.  As with so many along this journey, I may never cross paths with them again.  Likely I’ll just blend in with a crowd of other do-gooders, who’ve offered their time and a smile to Him, but if I could have only brightened their lives for the small hour or so that I was allowed to be there I can’t be downtrodden by what is, in my mind, the likelihood of not being a lasting world-changer in their lives.

The need is so big.  The number in need are so vast.  They all have faces.  They all have hearts.  They all have stories.  They all have fears.  It can be overwhelming.  It can overwhelm us to the point of being discouraged and desensitized and we become dead weight helping and loving no one for disappointment in not being able to help all, or seemingly even many.

We must refuse to let hearts that seek good, be turned apathetic and bitter by the enemy.  We must be a light so bright that we do our best, even in fleeting passing moments to pass that on.  We aren’t responsible for it catching or others following the path it illuminates, we’re only responsible for being letting that light shine through even in our night.

In some ways it’s shades of the Dominican all over again.  As a “missionary,” you go on trips like this and some might expect you to be intensely Holy and above such “weakness.”  But in our “weakness,” He is made strong.

He once again shows me that He doesn’t need me to feel.  My obedience is, as He’s been drilling into me for quite some time now, independent of circumstance, even if that circumstance is something as simple as “not feeling it.”

I don’t have it all together… “Shocker!”  Which is good, because it forces me to seek Him out more.  It doesn’t let me get comfortable.  It protects me from the pride that so easily swells up inside.

But in the midst of this lack of feeling, He has been speaking, not audibly, but in subtle ways and thru the encouragement of others.  He gives me words to say.   He gives me a calm in the midst of an internal storm of dissatisfaction, when there is nothing in my heart to be dissatisfied about but the lack of “feeling” more.

Feeling is overhyped and overplayed.  It can guide us to a great passion.  It can guide us to great (or terrible) things.  But it’s so… flighty.  It is the epitome of inconsistency and dependency.  Christ is the solid rock, not shifting sand.  And any obedience built on the shifting sand of feeling will be washed away.

Let us not be washed away.  Let's be flood proof, un-rocked by every wave of emotion, or lack thereof, even in an Indian monsoon season.  All we have to do is be ON the Rock not BE the rock.

That is all for now... stay classy... hope you enjoyed this book.

I'm Gonna Burn (WR)

So, as I sit here, I realize that this is 3 blogs posted in 1 day, and 4 in a week, but it might be a while before we post more.  I’m leaving for the Cape Town airport in an hour or less and our race is moving on to India after that.

I’m writing this as an advance blog, because I don’t know when, or how often I’ll have internet next month.  My team and squad always need prayer, but our team will certainly be thankful to receive some extra prayer support this month.

We will be working with a ministry, “Burn” traveling all over India.  We’ll land in Mumbai on Monday and be moving from there.  We’ll head to some very dark areas, places that have yet to hear the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ.  These will likely include some regions where idol worship and human sacrifice still take place today.

There will be a lot of spiritual warfare.  Pray that our team doesn’t give the enemy any foothold within us as individuals or as a team.  Pray for wisdom and guidance of our host team.  Pray for open hearts, both from us and from the people we will be sharing with.  Pray for a plentiful harvest and strengthened workers.

Thank you for all that all of you have done, both in prayer and otherwise.  We definitely still need you if we're gonna be able to burn.

(If you want specific names of racers doing this Burn for at least some of the time to pray for....They are... Ben, Brett, Rachel, Becca, Rebecca, Dania, Tyler, Michael, and me.)

I've Been Exposed (WR)

A lot of times it’s tough to sum up a month, especially a month like this one with 3 different types of ministry and all sorts of peripheral things.  But that’s the task I’m “charged” with.  So brace yourselves.

Our team had a couple of additions this month, Wesley Presley Snipes, or, as his birth certificate might more accurately say, Wesley Parker Reed joined us from the great state of Georgia, ever heard of it?  And Kyle Winston Tubb of Amory, Mississippi fame also took his talents to a South (African) Beach.  Now, I know what you’re thinking… He’s not Kyle Winston Tubb V.  As you much as you might expect a name like that to be locked onto for hundreds of years, such is not yet the case.

These gents were kiff (it means “cool” here in South Africa) and were keen(willing) to join us as part of a World Race Exposure trip that brings people in for a month of our journey, and without them and their manly muscles we would have been in for some extra rough times.  But it wasn’t the case as 8 of us pulled up onto the roof of Durban station in our Taxibus straight from Manzini, Swaziland rather than the normal 6.

It was on this roof that we were greeted by Kerneels, Emma, and Ella Roos of Higher Ground, a ministry that conducts camps for people with disabilities.  They are indeed legit.  They immediately escorted us on to our first of many homes for the month, where we saw the warm face of Sushila and had the pleasure of being treated and eating like kings and queens before we headed off to the first camp.

It’s about here that I could divulge into a long multipage rant about every little thing and change that happened, but I’ll just try to break it into a few short stories of some things I’ve been “exposed” to, beyond the obvious of the World Race Exposure.

I won’t pretend that I’ m a massively changed man directly resulting from this month, at least not from where I sit.

I certainly enjoyed the Durban area.  Emma and Kerneels, along with Matt and Lara Steyn from Dawn View Christian Camp were people I’d love to hang out with for life.  And I got to see my awesome Glenridge friends… SUCCESS!

But on to the individual experiences…

Week 1
We were at Dawn View Christian Camp, about an hour outside of Durban, near Pietermaritzburg working a camp for young adults with visual impairments ranging from partial-sightedness to complete blindness.  It was tough to pull them from their cell phones, but through our “Connect” time (musical worship and speaking on the word), bedtime talks, and a fireside chat we managed to present some truth. 

Out for a little "Mike Hike"

One of the most memorable was a chat with one of the campers at fireside, where I got to share a lot of the same type of truths I’ve been speaking about in my last few blogs and the freedom to love and obey independent of other people and our circumstances.  Much like “Pretend Angela” from Swaziland, I don’t know if he has let those truths set in or if he’s ran back to the past he had, but his looks of recognition, combined with his tendency to be a thinker, give me hope that he’s moved on to a freedom to be what he was called to.

Week 2
We moved about 45 minutes down the coast from Durban to Pennington Beach Resort to put on a camp for adults with acquired brain injuries.  These few days were some of the most humbling and sobering experiences of this race.  We were working with people who used to be just like us.  Born with no clue that their lives would be brought to the place where some of them can’t do for themselves.
One of these people was Tim.  Tyler and I were in charge of caring for him…completely.  You can’t quite replicate the experience of having to wipe grown man’s butt for him, or of standing by and encouraging him that it’s ok and that he needn’t apologize for not being able to pee as he lays pant less on his bed.  It’s sobering to have to console a grown man that you aren’t going to leave him alone, because he has a ridiculous fear of being left.

Tim, Tyler, and I hanging out on the last day of camp

What’s more sobering perhaps is that fact that at any point you or anyone you love could become like this.

These men had careers and wives.  They pretty much all lost the career, and several of them lost their wives.  I can’t imagine the mental and emotional pain that must ensue from that happening on top of being left incapacitated.  But what’s humbling is the amount of joy that these folks had.  Even if I didn’t believe in God, I’d have to still bite my tongue if I started to complain or feel bad about my lot in life.

Week 3
We went on back up to Dawn View for a few days with campers born with mental disabilities, primarily Autism and Down’s Syndrome.  I specifically was in charge of Tim, Kyle, and Lloyd, even though we all chipped in across the board.  This week wasn’t as tough, but full of joy one moment and emotion swings the next.  The guys were great, it’s indeed humbling and gratitude inducing to see what can happen if just a little bit off chemically, and it makes you do a mental double take about the simple things in life.

            

                        Kyle on the obstacle course

The month, as a whole, was often filled with what I’ve been speaking about in my recent blogs, just obeying, even when it seemed like it wasn’t going to work.

Kerneels, our contact, is partially sighted (at last check, and is down to a very very low percentage of vision. 

        

                                        Kerneels and Ella on the hiking trail with me and Mike.

I felt like I should be willing to pray for him to be healed every day.  And that is what I did.  I was forced to ask God to forgive my unbelief, Kerneels’s unbelief, or anything that was in the way of our hearts.

We asked for sight.  I desperately wanted him to be able to see his beautiful daughter, who even more gave me a preview of what being a dad could one day be.  But it didn’t happen when I was there.  It may happen now, but it hasn’t yet.  And we’re both okay with that.  From our talks, we both know that God can heal it, and even though we don’t know why He hasn’t, we understand that He has a reason, and that not having our prayers granted in life doesn’t excuse us from obedience, love, and service, nor does it for any of you.
I have gained from praying for him and him for me is a new brother, and that’s not to be scoffed at, but rather appreciated with great joy.

So would I do it all again?   I think I’d be keen.

A Double Funeral (WR)

In my last blog (Faith is Useless) I made the point that many of us don’t really obey.  (Read it if you wanna know what I’m talking about).  We don’t really exercise faith at times, and maybe, just maybe, you identified with that.  It’s possible that now or some point in the future you will find yourself with the realization that you should be exercising your faith in Christ, but you’re falling short of that.

If so, as I questioned at the end of the last blog, “Ok, so I don’t have the faith to obey like I know I’m supposed to.  How can I fix that?”  (<- an="" br="" exact="" not="" quote="">
Well there are a myriad of individual reasons, but I think for the most part they boil down to a small root cause.

Fear.

“Um, excuse me Matt, but I’m not afraid.”  Well you’re either really in a good place or a lying to yourself.  Bear with me and openly consider if this applies to you, and if it doesn’t let it roll on off… but if it does…you can begin to face and conquer it.

What would you do if you were not afraid?  Often fear is manifested in excuses, many of which I spoke about previously.

The thing it seems we fear most is failure.

We fear, because we feel a risk is involved.  It might have different looks, but often we fear failure at attaining some desired result.  But that is usually as a result of an inaccurate view of what failure looks like.

We often don’t obey, because we fear the consequences might not turn out “favorable” for us, or, if we’re more “selfless,” for what we THINK God wants.  But God wants us to obey, more than He wants us to be efficient or achieve things thru our obedience.

 The success in life isn’t in how “well” we do things, although we should do all things heartily as unto the Lord.  However, we do them to the best of our abilities with a heart for HIM, not for how many people respond positively, or how many lives we save (physically, emotionally, or spiritually).  Because, as I heard a man say recently in a church service hear in South Africa, “We need servants, more than we need heroes.”

We shouldn’t make a god of our good deeds and intentions, there is already a God, and there’s no room to magnify anything else, even if those things are done for Him.  But when we let fear of circumstances push us from obedience, a lot of the time it is because we’ve got that whole part out of balance.

So you might say, “Okay… I’m afraid.  I’m letting fear stop me from obedience.  Where does it come from?

How can I overcome the fear associated with the risk of failing?

I’d venture to say it’s because ultimately we perceive the risk to be real because we have a lack of perspective.

We live with a perspective that doesn’t extend far, if at all, beyond the borders of our pride.

Pride, in itself, is lacking in perspective.  It’s self-centered, and we too often adopt it as the lens of our lives and filter our decisions through it.  Pride is a monger of our perspective, in spite of having such a narrow vision.  We trap ourselves into trying to view a tremendous and grand world and plan with a tiny miniscule lens.

(NOT PICTURED >>>> ANYTHING)

What else is pride?  Pride is the inventor of fear.  It creates fear to protect itself.  Pride is the enemy living within us that confines us, that keeps us susceptible to an even greater extent to the schemes of “the evil one.”

In fact, what we fear in life isn’t failure, it’s the feeling that failing brings.  It’s our pride that takes the painful hit if we don’t succeed by the standards we perceive to be valid, and it’s our pride that keeps us from risking.

We should shun fear, but it’s a symptom of a greater disease, pride.  It is our pride that builds the tiny box in which we live in.  This tiny “Matrix,” in which we operate, is run by pride, because pride seeks control, because pride fears being out of control.  That’s a lot of “becauses,” but the point is it’s easier to control a tiny world.

We must be freed from the prison of pride, to a grander perspective; a perspective closer to a God-sized viewpoint that doesn’t need to see a return on investment on love and obedience, a perspective that doesn’t live with an orphaned and fearful heart.

So we need new perspective?  Well, what things should we include in this new perspective?

There are the obvious theological principles of God as a Father, Healer, Protector, Lord, Savior, Guide, and an assortment of other things.  But all those are things that any significant time spent in church or around “church folk” would have already taught you countless times.  That’s not to downplay those things.  They are indeed vital.  Cliché’s often come to be for a very real reason.

But what’s something else we can be left to metaphorically chew on?

Obedience is the success of life.  We often don’t attempt because we feel like our attempt will not result in the achievement we seek, but what we miss is that achievement is the attempt.  The greatest achievement is faith in Christ acted out as obedience, namely as love.  So too, one of the greatest miracles is a heart that seeks God’s way and not its own, even when it is otherwise afraid of the outcome.

It’s often been said that without risk, there is no love.  And to a degree, within our miniscule perspective, that carries some wisdom with it.  But that is a short-sighted view disguised as brilliant truth, as the wisdom of man often is.  Obedience is something that cannot be taken, it’s a heart turned to action, and action already completed.  That thing can’t be undone, not even by a hateful response, simple unrequited love, or even death itself.

Oddly enough we don’t love other people for their sake.  When we have this heart we indirectly love for our sake, because we feel as If we are doing them some massive favor and thus… should feel bubbly and proud of ourselves.  This type of love and obedience only goes as far as the appreciation of others will carry us, and maybe a bit further if our own “martyred” spirit will lead us to believe we’ve been extra Holy.

We love others, even in the crazy, difficult, messy situations, because we were first loved by our Savior, Creator, and Lord.  Our service is not a matter we should carry as if a merit badge, but rather a joyful and thankful response at being forgiven a debt that could never be repaid.  Or we could treat our service  like a child who is proud at the chance his or her father gives her to help work on a household project.

The Father doesn’t need us, but we GET TO be a part of His plan.

And when we are, we bring Him glory.  This isn’t some hokey, “Upward” Christianity where every well-intentioned person wins.  After all, the intentions must be properly guided from a perspective filled with His spirit, rather than a simple do-gooder’s heart.  That sort of understanding to properly aim good intentions comes from consistent time scripture, prayer, and Godly council.  Understandably, this is a life-long journey, all the more reason to get on the way now.

And getting on with it is exactly what we can do if we are freed from the prison of our pride-filled perspective.  To be such, is to be free to give of time and/or money, ask for help, quit that addiction, or whatever manifestation of love and obedience of our Savior presents itself.  To live in this way is to be free to persevere in the face of PERCEIVED failure, regardless of the likelihood of it repeating itself yet again.  This is the type of perseverance that produces character and hope.

And isn’t that what we all want to at least some degree?

Be free to fail, because even when you do, you can then realize that it was never failure at all.  And as you do this you are free to give birth to love.  And your pride and your fear can die together.

It’ll be great, we can have a double funeral.

Faith Is Useless (WR)

(So, quite recently, I posted a blog called “Pretend Angela.”  If you haven’t read that one, you should know it’s the precursor to this one.  So it might be a good idea to read it, because that’s where this one picks up)

…

How does someone get to this place?  How do we find ourselves in situations where, without intervention, we fly down a path of not trusting God?  How often do we justify our lack of faith more and more until, if we are fortunate enough to wake up, we eventually find ourselves way down a road we never thought we’d go?

Faith in Christ is a tough thing.  It’s often something we cling to more theoretically than literally, but by default that’s not faith.  Like a guy or a girl we want to like, we’re more into “the idea” of faith in Christ, than an actual reality of it.  But the reality of it, we think, involves a bit of risk.

I say “Faith in Christ” and not simply “faith,” because faith is easy and ulitmately useless if not properely placed.  Every moment we exercise faith in something.  Often we exercise faith in ourselves, or someone else’s opinion, or maybe even our interpretation of someone else’s opinion or advice.  There are countless things we put faith in every day, but, ironically enough, too rarely in our Creator.

                 

Some of us admittedly don’t believe at all, and that’s possibly a safer place than pretend believing, because at least then we’re honest about where we are.  And if He reveals Himself we at least know we need to move toward Him, rather than the false idea that we are already there.

What’s much more dangerous perhaps is a cultural Christianity.  What’s more common is the kind of part time Christianity that works from time to time, but rarely extends further than the church parking lot, the dinner table, or the occasional bedtime prayer.  Some of us extend it a little further into the realm of our all holy “quiet time” with God, but then run off into a different compartment of our lives.

We fill our mouths and minds with all of these reasons why we should trust in ourselves rather than in our Savior, Creator, and would-be Lord.  But think of the ridiculousness of it all.  It’s often our “logic” that leads us to a place of trusting our ways and the ways of the world, but it’s real logic that awakens us to the truth.

How does it make sense that we believe and have faith that there is a God, but that He can’t take care of our children and our families?  How does it make sense to say that we believe that this God has always been and always will be, and that He possesses all power, strength and love, but live lives that show we believe Him to be smaller than our circumstance.  How is it that we can say we believe this God calls us His children, and sent part of Himself, His own son for us, yet not trust Him with our futures?  How can we trust Him with our soul, but not our wallet?  How can we trust Him with our sins, but not our dating or marriage relationships?

How can we trust Him with our eternity, but not with our temporal?

How foolish does it all seem?  Do we really trust Him?

It’s a lack of trust in Him, combined with an inflated view of ourselves, a pride, fed by a lack of perspective.
The words “IF” and “UNLESS” are, apparently, less often found in scripture than our words and lives would preach.

“Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”  Is not “Love your neighbor as yourself, unless he is really annoying.”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience,” is found on the pages of scripture on a much less common basis than we might think.

All sorts of commands and promises and scripture we know, but adulterate with a pride that thinks our situation is somehow different or outside of the scope God intended it.

“I know the Word leads us to serve and provide for the poor, the orphans, the widows, and to tithe BUT if I don’t know how I’m gonna pay for my child’s school, or for my school, or for my car.”  Or maybe… “Yeah we are supposed to give of our time to others, but I work hard ya know?”

This isn’t a blog to call you to give everything you own to the poor or to get you to volunteer every Saturday at a soup kitchen or some other philanthropic outlet.  But moreso it’s a call to trust.  It’s a call to have faith IN Christ more than self.  It’s a call to have what we say we believe line up with what our lives say.

Ok…So you might say, “So.. I don’t live out a life a faith?  Why is that?  I mean I know I should, but what exactly is stopping me?”  Which are all good questions, because after all, application is part of a living faith in Christ is it not?

Well.. I’ve got some thoughts, but you’ll have to wait on the next blog….

Lord Willin’

(I know I did it again, but seriously… that would be a lonnnnng blog)… you’re welcome.

Pretend Angela (WR)

Last month we had Manistry (all the dudes together) month in Swaziland, except the women… they did no “manistry” to speak of, but were still in Swaziland.  I know you’re glad you had that explained to you.

Our ministry mainly involved helping out with the children of an orphanage and school, working in the fields, and helping around our contact Charmain's home.  Between all that, our random guy things, and, of course, tea time... I managed to meet a lady name Angela... "allegedly." 

…

Cows often found their way onto the property at El Shaddai, and one of our daily tasks quickly became herding them from the corn fields.  On one such occasion, "Angela" was walking down the road and her phone messed up, which led her to call for the assistance of Ben Mullett and Johnfrank.  (They can give more of the story, but if you don’t know them this will have to suffice).

She asked for help fixing the music on her phone and moved on, offering to sell them a giant bag of weed.  Just a normal day, ya know?  Ehhh… not really...

She explained that she was nervous, as it was her first time selling.  She'd been out of work for some time, and was only selling in an effort to raise the money to provide for her little boy.  Afterall, everyone around there sold.  It's how to get by.  But after a talk and some prayer, she agreed to go home and pour all of the weed down her outhouse.

AND she said she'd go to church on Sunday.

 

(NORMALLY I PROBABLY WOULD HAVE PUT A PICTURE HERE, BUT… I DON’T REALLY HAVE ONE RIGHT NOW, SO I THOUGHT ALL CAPS WOULD SIMULATE IT.  JUST IMAGINE 1,000 WORDS HERE).

Sunday rolled around, and there she came.  

I didn't know her, but I saw her talking with Ben and Johnfrank.  Apparently, she told Johnfrank that she’d not thrown the weed away, but I didn’t know that.  His conversation with her was interrupted and he ended up having to step away.  But as “Angela” was getting ready to leave, I heard her saying she was going to meet someone.

I knew the story of her talk on day one with Johnfrank and Ben, but something didn’t sit easy in me.  I just couldn’t shake that thought that maybe she had lied to them and was off to sell the green to someone.  Part of me just wanted to let her go, thinking I was wrong or that she wouldn’t tell me if that’s what she was doing, but saying something won out.

I called to her as she was walking away, with some vague question more out of starting conversation rather than of any specific desire to know whatever specifically I asked.  

She stopped, and I asked her if she had to go.  It didn’t take long for her to explain that she was going to sell, and that this was her only time. 

Johnfrank then returned, and after a bit of conversation she agreed to escort us, along with her young boy, to their home to see her thru canceling her appointment and dumping “the goods” down the chute of the modest wooden outhouse on her grandmother’s property.

 

(I PROBABLY WOULD HAVE PUT A PICTURE HERE TOO).

 

Eventually, we talked her into speaking with Charmain about her problem paying for her son’s school and looking for work.  And she had a solution that would have been available to her all along.  But as many of us do, “Angela” (who’d actually given us a fake English name) was caught in a spinning cycle of chasing her own way around things.  She, like many of us, was trying to solve things by her own strength, maybe even praying to God, but in all practicality trusting in everything but Him. 

I can’t say with great confidence that, as I sit, “Angela” is full-heartedly chasing after the Lord and genuinely seeking what is right.  That’s part of the nature of this building relationships and leaving thing, but we just have to trust that the words of the Lord will not return void.  Since we left her and her son to move on to South Africa, we’ve not heard from them.  So, I don’t know if she’s still sticking with the plan to help her that had been worked out prior to our departure.  I don’t know that she’s seeking a life of honesty and seeking the discipleship we encouraged her to get, but she’s certainly had every chance to do so.  And so have all of us.  Whether we believe and take advantage of those opportunities is, as with Pretend Angela, up to us…

All of this poses some questions and whatnot, and I don’t like leaving things incomplete, but I’m assuming you don’t wanna read a 2,000 word blog in one sitting.  So …for now… against my normal urges not to write something I don’t fully like…I’ll leave it at this, and soon I’ll post the follow up… 

“Lord Willin’”

Not Pregnant! (WR)

As most of my blogs, this one is late, but don’t worry… neither I nor my world race blog are pregnant.  (I imagine that Reagan has just struck her knee).  If you aren’t on the race, you probably won’t get that, don’t hurt yourself.

(Digression)

Precursor:  I’m a logistics dude for my squad.  That’s not vital to any of this, but it explains the next sentence for those of you who didn’t know.

Part of this whole logistics gig means I get to be a part of the lovely process known as visa applications and, for this race in particular, India has been a hefty sized garbage bag of issues.  First, we tried to apply in Romania, but it was too soon, “allegedly.”  So we regrouped and planned to apply in South Africa.  Well, at the beginning-ish of June, roundabout the 7^th, BenW, the squad leaders, and myself rolled on down to Durban after Mozambique ended.

To our slight surprise, we were told we needed to have everyone fill out new forms because, although the required information is the same, they need their paperwork to have South Africa on the top, and not Romania.  More surprising, however, was the fact that in South Africa everyone must individually enter the office to apply, so we couldn’t get them.

We took buses seven hours out of our way and didn’t get what we went for.  So… we failed right?

Nope.

Instead, we met some amazing people who tremendously blessed us!  And a dream was re-encouraged within me by these people being open vessels of God in serving us abundantly.

People back home care about me and for me in times of need for various reasons.  It’s nearly always been some combination of them enjoying my company, being my family or friends and having to love me, or wanting to provide for me because God has used me in their lives.



But… with this “Durband” it was …the power of Christ that compelled them.  There was no other reason they could have genuinely had that might cause them to serve us, but they did, and (barring severe mental deterioration) I’ll remember them until the day I die.

These men and women tremendously blessed me and helped encourage me even more of God’s provision for some of my biggest and most “risky” dreams.

And it shouldn’t be that I need to be re-energized necessarily, but that’s what the body of Christ does, or rather should do.  We take care of each other, and I pray I can make a habit of being as welcoming and as much of a blessing for others as our “Durband” was to us.



(More blogs coming soon...probably, if I'd just been able to fit into all in more briefly it would have been in THIS blog, but I trust you can wait).

Jokes Are Stupid (WR)

Here I sit, done with Mozambique, or “Mozie” if your ke­­­­­­­­­­en for shortening wor.  So I should reflect right?  (The previous inquiry was redundant).  I also like using words most people, myself included, typically wouldn’t, anyway… I’ll matriculate onward with this blog.

Unveiled Pursuit (that’s my team, for those of­­­­­­ you who don’t follow with regularity) and Team Genuine bunked down with Angie Wheeler last month in Machava, in the Maputo district of Mozie, at her ministry, “Beacon of Hope” (BOH).  Angie has been in Mozambique nearly 11 years and has a God-given vision that’s awfully encouraging.

Originally, as a part of Iris ministries, Angie developed a deeper heart for the young people, and today it shows more than ever.  Aside from the children she’s adopted, every year she starts with 10 young men, enrolling them in the 3 year program.  Not everyone stays.  But that’s their choice.  You can’t “make” people succeed.  You can only offer them the opportunity, which includes learning responsibility and honoring authority and that’s what Angie does.



Angie accepts participants from various communities.  Her first priority is orphans, then those with single parents, and on to children from poorer families with both parents.  They are provided with valuable education, training in various professions of interest, and other useful talents.  She also has a tremendous staff, led by her son Popo, that disciples these men into a realization of being sons of God and leaders in their families, districts, nation, and potentially beyond.  If ya wanna know more about Beacon of Hope be sure to check out http://www.beaconofhope-africa.org/.



Ok cool, but what did I do there?  Well, I’m glad I asked myself on your behalf.  I did “Insanity” in themorning with the men of BOH.  So I’m pretty “ripped” now.  We also taught English and other subjects, but mainly I tiled.  I did a little tile work.  Oh yeah, and I tiled some.  I basically lived in the kitchen at the ministry, which isn’t entirely new, but just in a different way than normal.  I was tiling in there.  I’m don’t know if I mentioned that.

“Matt, why did you tile?”  Those words from a hypothetically interested person ring in my ears even now.  Well… ya see… sometimes… I joke.  We’d just arrived and Angie mentions she needs tile work, several girls jump to mention, “Oh Ben tiles,” but not in a casual sort of way.  Then Brett says, “Yeah, I’ve done tile work too.”  Then, “contrary to form,” I look at Brett and somewhat mockingly, and unbeknownst to the rest of the room, mouth the words, “I’ve done tile work too.”  Well, ya see Brett didn’t know I was joking… He mentions it to Angie as he’s leaving and a month is formed.

But, despite being trapped by the perfectionistic tile work ethic that I stole from my dad for the month, I did get to enjoy the pleasure of meeting such wonderful young men, that I expect to be the next leaders of Mozambique.  These guys are so respectful and so honoring, oh and they are very talented.  I’m honestly not sure if I’ve met boys their age that are so respectful, nor am I sure that I’ve met such a respectful staff.  Especially given the way Africa normally runs, and that Angie is a woman, to see them esteem her so much speaks highly of them and of her.

Honestly, I don’t feel like this blog even remotely does the guys or Angie service, and I don’t normally like just “telling” things without much of a twist or deeper tie in, but sometimes things just need to be told so the word can get out.  So… there it is.

It's Not Father's Day Anymore (WR)

About a month ago, I wrote a Mother’s Day Blog, at the time I didn’t plan on writing this one, but I think the occasion deserves it.  Yeah… it’s after Father’s Day, but the internet went out and I wasn’t able to talk to pops.  But here it is… a blog for dad, written from a mountain top, by a fire, under an open sky, on the other side of the world.

Yeah…  I travel a bit, it’s something he instilled in me.

He’s done a lot that goes unmentioned and unnoticed.  Most people don’t know the hard work he’s put into our family.  Many people remember him more for the man he USED to be, not the man he’s become and becoming.


He doesn’t seek the praise, but a little appreciation and thanks go a long way.

He’s had a rough go of it the last year or so, caught some tough breaks, and I know he’s wondering what’s next, but he’s holding strong.

I’m writing this blog to let you all know, because I know he does, that I’m proud that he’s my dad.   And I’m proud that he’s my mom’s husband.  And, though he may not often receive the affirmation of it, he’s a great son.

He’ll be the first to admit that the man he was wasn’t the man he should have been, but he didn’t settle for a verbal admission.  He did something much more valuable.

He changed… and he’s still growing.


 Potentially, the most important thing he’s ever given to me, other than his love, is vision.  And I see him taking the effort to do that for my little cousins Curtis and Brittany, who haven’t really been shown that as much in their lives.

His example taught me to have a vision bigger than my circumstances.  He taught me by example to look beyond the situation I’m in, and that there’s something more out there.  He’s always searching, always seeking a better way to provide for our family the best he knows how.

Even though, I know, he’s got nothing more to prove.

He, and my mom, have sacrificed and changed so much about their lives for me.  We never had much, but I never even remotely lacked.

He taught me the value of an attitude that says, “If you’re gonna bother doing it, take the time to do it well.”

As men sometimes there’s this hang up with being emotional with each other.  It’s a lie fed into by our society that has led many to lose the definition of what a man is.  But I’ve always known he loved me. It’s never been in question.  And one of the great joys of my life is that, as I’ve grown into manhood, our relationship has had that open door for him to tell me he loves me and vice versa.

He, along with mom, have always had a more “detailed” view of my wellbeing than I have.  “CHEW YOUR FOOD, DON’T SWALLOW IT WHOLE.”  “Sit up straight man, I’m telling you, you’ll notice it when you’re my age.”  “I’m tellin ya… Take care of your back/knees/feet /____ man.”  But that’s what good parents do.  They look beyond the box their children see in, and drop “pearls” of wisdom and life experience in.

But of all the things I’m proud of my dad for, and of all the reasons I’m proud to have him as a father, what I’m most proud of is the man that I know he is and can become.  He’s never settled for the lie that you cannot grow or improve your situation.  But his growth in God is what I desire the most for him.  His, though often private, seeking of God is the most encouraging thing for me, and because I know our Father in heaven has told us “Seek and you shall find,” I have great confidence that the more He is sought the more He will be found.  And, as great of a father and husband has he has been and become, there’s no limit to the father and husband and grandfather (“Lord Willin’”) he’ll become as he grows deeper with Jesus and what being a son of God means.

And THAT is beyond exciting.

I Steal Things From Little Girls (WR)

So… blog world… the long awaited closure to the Tra nsnis tria and Moldova chapters of this race has finally come.  I know you were feverishly checking your emails and my blog page, just in case you missed it.  Well, fret not, it has arrived.

There came a time in my life when I found myself in the magical, yet not-so-official, land of Tr ansnistr ia, what some people know as Moldova.  As you may recall, if you frequent this blog and have a good memory, I was handed a piece of paper and instructed not to lose it.  Seeing as how losing it could potentially lead to a fine or imprisonment, I planned to keep a tight grip on it.  However, my pocket had a different plan, and it may well be in one of Tira spol’s finest abandoned buildings or dumpsters by now.

So what ever became of me?  Whatever happened with the cliffhanger I dropped two blogs ago, only to not address last blog?  What is this? “Bones?” Nope.  This is my blog, and if you didn’t know that already I don’t know if telling you anything else will really help. But alas, here is what happened.

…Nothing.  My week 2 contact, Pastor Alexey, pulled some KGB junk out and got me a sweet little stamp.  So no worries for Bill Murray, or for me.  Which is good, because I know Bill was just “all e’t up about it.”

So once I crossed the very real, pretend-border back into real, all-the-time Moldova we were dropped off at the eMbassy errrr...  I mean McDonald’s.  One of 3, at least, that “beautify” the Chisinau landscape.  Upon arrival and a friendly greeting, us guys found ourselves ushered off by Irina and Efim to a nice little apartamento where our week one of this final leg would be spent, well the sleeping parts at least.  The girls were moved 20 minutes driving distance away to be with their wonderful hosts Cornelia and Zina.

We fellas were greeted warmly by Luda and shown our room, complete with bunk beds and stuffed animals.  A room fit for little girls, mainly because 2 beautiful little girls lived there, but not this week.   And that warm greeting was just the beginning.
 

Luda and her husband Radu, were wonderful hosts.  They  were super sweet to us, literally, honey in the tea, all the time!  Radu is an amazing man of God, the Lord of the office, and the Lord of the keys for the Boom Club (Campus Crusade for Christ/CRU in Chisinau), which of course goes to prove that Jesus is indeed Lord of Lords.

Ohhhh Boom Club…What do you want us to do?  Teach English?  Okay, I’m getting used to this whole gig.
But first you want me to do what?  You want me to go on campus and pass out flyers to random people inviting them?  You expect me to get a random stranger’s attention and invite them to something?  Well, does the word… “WHEELHOUSE” mean anything to you?  Because I thought you’d never ask.  And I get to do it with my new friend Moldovan Mike?  Deal!

After that whole charade, later in the week we went to some high schools for 2 days, guided by Jenica, Natasha, and Zina presenting some things about America (and Canada) and inviting them to walk thru the city with us and come to English club.  And you know what?  They came.  And “Kidney of the Wolf” was born.  If you wanna know what that is, then that just means you don’t know.  But you can ask.

So week two of Chishinau comes around.... And we're movin on up... to the East Side, to a Deee-lux apartment  on the 15th floor..."   Yes, we got a sweet pad for the second week too.  We of course had to trade in wonderful meals, holding babies, and stealing little girls' beds, but we did have our own place where we could go shirtless and whatnot in freedom.

(Side note, actually not to the side at all: it was here, that I experienced the only breakfast in bed in my memory.  I'd always thought/selfishly hoped it would be from my wife, or at the very least a beautiful and kindhearted young lady who was making a play to be the aforementioned wife that I experienced this from.  I definitely didn't expect it to be a 5'11 man with a beard and a hockey shirt of some team we don't even know,  but I can only assume that this situation was the next best thing if I couldn't have situation number one, because Michael brought me steak on a plate, and that's not too shabby.)

So we have our sweet bachelor pad, and here comes English club: Chishinau style, and guess what, we get our own classes!  There are so many students they want to get the most out of us.  And I love it.  Not that teaching with others is bad, but it really allowed us each to develop our own personalities and invest in our classes.  Besides, I'd been warmed up two weeks prior with the class that Dania and I had taught in Tirasp ol.

Everyone else would say they had the “BEST” class, but they’d just be being subjective, bias, wrong, incorrect, and redundant…Wait!  That’s me being redundant, but still I get the honor of truthfully saying my class was, as the Moldovians that Tyler taught English would say, “LEGIT!”



I can’t adequately express the joy that I had from sharing, not only English with these people, but myself and ,more importantly, what Jesus has done and continues to do in my life and what He has for them.  I was able to share so much in such a short time, and I’ve made new friends for life.   Dorin, Margaretta, Ecaterina, Vera, Alina, Anatol,  Mihai, Sandra, Matei and the rest, including those not in my class, were a great, great pleasure to meet and get to know on a deeper level.

That’s what these 2 weeks were.  I made new friends, new brothers, new sisters.  Honestly, the whole race has been that, and life is that, but I do indeed feel a special connection with these people.  I’m super glad I pursued this route because of Moldova.

It just wasn’t for the reasons I’d initially anticipated.


I was so continually blessed by the kindness and appreciation that the staff of Boom Club and the students in our classes had for us.  It was very moving and will be something I can hopefully carry with me the rest of my
life.


Moldova, I can't say all the nice things I'd like to say about you, because I'm lazy, and this blog is already long.  Just know this… you used to be great.  You still are, but you used to be too.  Now it’s just time to believe it and live in it!

I wonder what a good title for this blog would be?  How bout?  “I Steal Thing From Little Girls.”  You’d click on that blog title wouldn’t you?  Don’t lie to me.

Abrupt-ish ending.

A Sea of Greatness (WR)

...(ANNOUNCER VOICE) "Previously on this blog... you read things (allegedly)... here are more things... I promise."

This, once again is a little late, but it’s a part of the journey that “needs” to be shared.  I spent a second week in “Daughter Russia.”  This time I moved a little to the south and a little less to the east to a little place I can’t spell in any language, but if I had to give it a shot I’d say Slovodzeah,  but again… I’m pretty sure I just butchered that like a madman.

In terms of “ministry,” this wasn’t some extreme mission.  We spent time with some teenagers from the church and painted in an orphanage, unless you are talking to the Narnian government, in that case the orphanage is closed, because they don’t like Christians taking care of children.  But the things we were doing weren’t “extreme” by any means, not “life-changing” things in and of themselves, but then again it’s learning to serve God and others in the simple things that is most practically sustainable across the board.



If we need some sort of extreme mission, or if we define how we are used by God as something that builds lots of emotions in us we really begin to serve ourselves and worship that “feeling” of helping more than worshiping our Savior by loving as He has called us to.

People spend their lives looking for the wow-factor, but the greatest lives of service often go unheralded.   If we want to be great in life (and who doesn’t?) we must be great in the small simple things, and okay with people not appreciating.

A great life isn’t made up solely of a small number of mountain top experiences, or one great achievement.

A great life is made up a lots of small decisions made well and in love, seeking to represent our Savior and serve others above self, and that’s often not going to “feel” or seem as noteworthy in the moment, but that’s the way to have a life full of moments to look back on with a deeper satisfaction.

True greatness is often unheralded.  That’s partly true because greatness doesn’t seek acclaim or recognition.  Greatness doesn’t need marketing, (says the guy with a marketing degree), it represents itself and those fortunate enough to notice or be a part of it are blessed indeed.  It is doing the right thing and serving out of obedience springing from thankfulness and joy, rather than just what outcome we think it might yield from others.

When you look at true unheralded greatness in the lives of others it humbles you.  The second half of my Trans ni strian fortnight  this is what happened to me.  I was, once again, humbled.  The ladies were shacked up in the orphanage, while the dudes were holding down mattresses in the floor of a small church’s office about a 20 minute walk away.

The church is also home to 4 men right now, 2 of which are in drug rehabilitation, and 2 of which are mentoring them.  These men served us at least as much, if not more, than we served their community… oh and they humbled me...

We’ve been served a lot this year.

Everywhere I’ve been I’ve been fortunate enough to come across giving people and wonderful contacts.  Nothing could ever be said to discount the blessings the our contact Pastor Alexey and others have been to us throughout this year, but there was something different about these guys, in particular Alex and Sergei, the two mentors there.

The difference begins in their role, they weren’t our contacts, we just happened to be staying at the same place as them.  They had no duty to serve us, no reasonable expectation.  After all, we were Pastor Alexey’s problem, and, if anything, we were in the way of their work and sleep.  Though it would have been reasonable to assume we were no concern of theirs, they made us breakfast, honey, and tea nearly every morning and then working dishes often too.   But true greatness goes beyond what’s reasonable and often seems unreasonable.

True greatness doesn’t use words like fairness and reasonable as a standard, but merely as an afterthought lost in a sea of grace, mercy, truth, love and service.  There is some overlap in the words in this “sea,” meaning some of them define or give birth to others, but they each hold such weight, they needn’t be unlisted for fear of redundancy.  Nor is this “Sea of Greatness” exhausted in these words, but they make up a substantial portion to be certain.

Heck these guys didn’t even really speak our language.   If we wanted to communicate we just worked thru random pointing and the bits of Russian/English we knew respectively, and for more complex thoughts we rocked out a little Google-Translate.

We weren’t helping them specifically, so there was no need for them to serve us out of thankfulness to us specifically. They just served out of obedience and thankfulness to their Savior.  It was so moving to see this gentle giant, Sergei, so meekly serve and invest in the lives of these other grown men, both older than him, even down to the menial tasks of dishes and cleaning.  And you could feel the thankfulness and respect they had back for him.


Then he finds the time to serve and lead them in serving us with such care as well, with it seeming neither forced or an inconvenience for him.  And did I mention this guy was a recovered drug addict himself?

God had taken this man from being so messed up on drugs that he literally cut up his arms and cut 2 of his own fingers off, to a gentle giant giving his life to other men, and then serving 3 American dudes who have far more than he has by the world’s standards.

So as much as this man impressed me, it impressed me even more with a God that could make this change, and made me even more thankful to know that same God loves me.  And that is what our lives are supposed to do…

We are great in the small things, not to develop an awesome reputation, or even to genuinely have a good life, but to point others to our Savior, and a subsequent thankfulness and joy in Him, which then pushes them to lives of greatness for the same reasons with the same outcomes.  But even when the outcomes aren’t what we envision, we don’t carry that weight, because we are great in the small things for the sake of the glory of our Lord and King, not whether others appreciate it.  And when we understand this we can begin to freely swim deeper and deeper in the Sea, and if we drown, we drown, because in life we all must exit, we may as well make it a great one.

Daughter Russia: Pretend Moldova (World Race)

So I know, this is like a month late, and I’m in Mozambique now, and we always wanna read about the new stuff, but you’re gonna have to wait on that, at least from me.  Because meaningful things have happened, so I thought I’d give you a recap of Moldova… in three parts.  Why?  Well, because we lived it in 3 parts.  Don’t ask such pushy questions!  Geez!  Here’s part one, more is pending posting.


This is more of a recounting of events than an exploration of deeper concepts.  Unveiled Pursuit(UP) had a little secret unveiled to us.  There’s a place called Tr ansni stria, or as I like to call it “Daughter Russia.”  It’s a pretend country, a political Narnia, if you will in that “monstrously” dominates the eastern landscape, of what most of those who know of Moldova, think is Moldova.  People think it’s Moldova, partly because it is, but this Soviet nook is it’s own deal, complete with Russian military, and their own currency, the rubel, which takes it’s namesake from Mother Russia’s currency, which is about 3 times weaker than it’s daughter.  But don’t mind that, no one else in the world will take the Transnistrian currency, on account of it being “fake.” 


When you enter Tra nsnis tria they give you a sheet of paper to keep until you exit the country.  A gentleman at the border also going thru said, “Don’t lose that paper, or they’ll *expletive deleted* you.” 

I lost the paper…


Digression? Check!


We found ourselves in our first week of “Moldovian” ministry in the Transnistrian capital of Tiraspol, complete with Lenin statue and creepy Soviet music occasionally pumped through street speakers.  But we didn’t just come here to be absorbed into the ussr (conspicuous lower case inconspicuous pun alert), we came to teach.  And, if you wanna be specific our method of ministry was to teach English with CRU(Campus Crusade for Christ), that’s also what our method was if you don’t wanna be specific.  (That’s what we call “unconditional purpose in relation to whether or not you wanna be specific”, and by “we” I mean “me” and anyone else who agrees).   I think it’s time for digressing… so I will.

Mr. Tumnus was nowhere to be found, but there were awesome helps like Igor, Dima, and company who we worked with.. whom we worked with? Who we worked with… eh whatever…

By day we split up, some of us went to teach English in a high school and let the children see real life Americans (and Canadian) for the first, and potentially, only time ever in person.  The rest of us would go to campus and co-vertly invite people to English club.

Ohhh Tiraspol English Club… You were great.  You taught me to teach… English … good… errr I mean “well.”  I think.  Irregardless, it was a great time.  We split the students up into 3 levels( zero, easy, and hard), or beginner, intermediate, and advanced for those of you desire that I use my mental thesaurus for clarification.  Each class got 2 racers, Mike and Becca took the advanced class, Rebecca and Mike intermediated their way thru a class of mediumenglishspeaker-ites, and the beginner class had Dania and me-self. 


We worked through this and that… literally, and some of these and those… no… for real.  And of course we touched many more of the delightful grammatical intricacies o’ the English language, all the while getting the chance to know some new wonderful people.
English club got a few of us invited to be “guest lecturers” in a university class, which is a second or third for me, but a first in a political anomaly.  And after that we went to walk around and invite more students to good ole English club when one of our students grabs me and invites me for an impromptu appearance in a class of 3^rd or 4^th year journalism students, all who spoke English students. 
It was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had on this trip.  As I suddenly sat, they insisted I sit, and shared about my journey and how they can use their profession to better lives and the world, with what I think are potentially some of the greatest minds the world may never get a chance to know if they remain in their current political state.   None of them ever came to English club, but I hope a seed was planted.

But back to English Club… at the end of the week, we got to share the Gospel, and I mean legitimately share THE Gospel and love of Jesus in a verbal way, to a room of 50 or more people who’ve had their view of Jesus blinded and twisted by their political covering and an orthodox church which has lost its way.   Many of these people had never heard the gospel in this way, and may never hear it again, but they have heard now.  That was a humbling experience for sure, one I’m thankful to have been blessed with.  This is what it’s about, sharing Jesus, not just doing good things.  And for probably the most unadulterated time up to that point on the race I was able to do it in Trans nistr ia. 


Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t the last.

I pray it settled in with someone.

On Sunday we went to church, as is custom among many groups of Christians, and it was their Easter.  YAY! TWO EASTERS!!!  (The orthodox calendar Easter this year was a week after protestant Easter).  And I got to give my first ever Easter sermon… another humbling experience.  At the end of the service they brought us up and thanked us for coming and said (in Russian of course)… it’s a good week, none of you were arrested.  Which I think put it in perspective.  We had been in legitimate danger of being arrested for sharing the Gospel of Jesus openly.  Don’t worry mom.  I wasn’t arrested… for sharing the Gospel (this time).

Remember how I said I lost my paper that I was NOT supposed to lose…

I didn’t find it, but I had another week in Transnistria, before it became an issue.  To see how the story unfolds stay tuned to the rest of my Moldovan blogs, which will doubtedly be coming soon...

TO BE CONTINUED... (Lord Willin')